sliding scale
by bequirk
Summary: Clint Barton knows he's not right after the whole mind control debacle. When Thor comes back to town, trying to escape his own demons, Clint finds a way to feel normal again. It works for a while, but eventually Clint realizes that some wounds can't be fixed by a band aid.


**All the appreciation and cookies to my amazing beta, dysprositos, for beta excellence and helping me summarize this mess.**

**WARNINGS: Neither of the two main characters in this are in good frames of mind. Clint, in particular, disparages his mental health. DUB-CON, as although consent is asked for and given, neither character is in a good frame of mind to be consenting to things. They aren't in a healthy relationship. And there's heavily implied but not actually onscreen sex. Basically, this is rated M for a reason, folks.**

**Also, this takes place pre-Thor 2.**

* * *

Thor returned, fittingly enough, on a Thursday.

He arrived in Central Park, and after getting his bearings, headed for the exit he remembered making use of before, when he and his—no, Loki—had departed for Asgard by means of the Tesseract. But a SHIELD team intercepted him before he made it there, and he was taken to their headquarters.

The Helicarrier was undergoing repairs, so Thor went to their temporary quarters in an unobtrusive office building in New York. Although speaking with SHIELD was not what he wanted to be doing, he went easily enough, preferring to keep relations with them as amicable as possible.

Director Fury had a few questions at Thor, but Thor explained that he had come back from Asgard after Loki's trial and subsequent imprisonment because he could not bear the thought of seeing him in prison. It was the truth. He felt as though he had failed Loki, had let him down irreparably. It was a painful thought, and Thor struggled to keep the full force of his emotions in check.

Fury rolled his eye, huffed something under his breath, and directed an agent to get Thor set up with whatever he might need. After a final order to Thor to keep a low profile, he left the office, heading off to the meeting he'd had to postpone to deal with this "bullshit."

Thor had not expected sympathy, not here on Midgard, but it nevertheless stung somewhat.

The helpful agent provided Thor with a change of clothing and currency, explaining that it was their standard fee paid to a consultant, like Tony Stark, and that Thor should not feel beholden. There was also a bag for Mjolnir so that Thor did not walk around carrying the rather noticeable hammer.

After he was thus burdened, Thor was released. He momentarily considered going to Jane; the agent had told him her location, but he decided that he was too melancholy for that. Jane was a lovely person, a bright, optimistic spirit, and one he did not want to taint with his current mood. He knew that whoever he was around for long, he would bring down. And she was too good for that; he had already ruined one being, he did not think he could stand bringing the same harm upon another.

So instead he made his way towards the giant, gleaming structure towering over all the others, knowing that was where he could find at least one of his comrades. Perhaps two, if he had read Stark's intentions towards Banner correctly.

* * *

Thor had had a brief interaction with the voice called JARVIS, during his last sojourn in the tower, and so he knew to ask for Tony Stark when he arrived, and followed the directions helpfully provided into the elevator and up.

He stepped out of the small box and was greeted by his beaming shieldbrother, who was talking to someone out of Thor's view.

As it turned out, Tony, as he immediately reminded Thor to call him, had been hosting most of the other Avengers for dinner that evening. Everyone save the Captain, who was taking a cross-country roadtrip, according to Pepper, whom Thor had also met previously.

She was a most kind and gracious hostess, who immediately offered Thor a room when she heard that he had no immediate plans. Despite Tony's obviously feigned protests, Thor gratefully accepted, and then moved on to speak with his other comrades. He could manage to be cheerful for one evening, he was certain. His spirit was lifted slightly simply by seeing the others happy.

Banner was quiet, but he seemed glad to see Thor, asking if he could possibly examine Thor's hammer at some point (much to Tony's amusement). Thor had been correct; Banner was living in the tower with Tony and Pepper.

The two SHIELD agents, Romanoff and Barton, were not, but she stood from her seat to shake Thor's hand firmly, encouraging him to refer to her as Natasha and her partner as Clint.

He did not speak, but lifted one hand briefly in greeting before returning his gaze to his drink, which appeared untouched.

At that, Natasha frowned and drew Thor aside, explaining that Clint was not recovering from Loki's possession well.

The brief bout of levity he had felt disappeared immediately. It seemed that no matter where Thor went, he could not escape his brother. His brow furrowed as he apologized yet again for Loki's actions.

Would he ever be free of his brother? For all Loki's complaints of being in Thor's shadow, it rather felt the other way around. But Thor felt he deserved it, in a way. He was selfish one way or another; he had no good choice.

But his sorrow had little place here, so Thor took the offered seat at the table and broke bread with his comrades, enjoying their company while contributing little to the discussion. Tony kept him well supplied with alcohol, although the stuff of Midgard was not nearly as potent as what Thor was accustomed to, and he kept his head although his teammates seemed to be succumbing to the lures of drunkenness.

All except Pepper, who excused herself after a while and explained that she had an early flight to a business conference, and Clint, who stared unseeingly at the wall across from him, the same drink he had been contemplating when Thor had entered resting on the table between his hands.

Impulsively rising, Thor rose and went to lay a hand on Barton's shoulder, wanting to offer what measure of comfort he could.

Under his hand, Clint stiffened but then seemed to relax, allowing his head to loll to the side slightly. Thor looked down in surprise, but some of the tension was bleeding out of Barton's posture and Thor felt that he could not in good conscience pull away.

They remained like that for a few minutes, until Clint abruptly stood and took Thor's hand, tugging him away down the hall. Nobody seemed to notice them leave, but Thor was certain that Natasha noticed Clint's absence; she was discerning, even when affected by alcohol.

Pepper had told Thor how to get to his room, and it appeared as though they were following those directions. Clint came to a sudden stop and opened a door, tugging Thor through and closing it, turning on the light as he did so.

He stood on his tiptoes and stretched up, reaching a hand to the back of Thor's neck and pulling him down slightly until their mouths met.

There was nothing gentle in the kiss, and as Clint pressed himself closer against Thor, Thor began to understand. Barton was seeking to forget and in a way, Thor was as well.

While this was not the way he would have chosen, he could understand Clint's motivations for selecting it, and he was not an unwilling participant.

So he put his hands on Clint's waist and spun them around, pressing Clint up against the door and moving more aggressively into the kiss, rocking his lower body against Clint's firmly.

Clint moaned, and Thor ran a hand under the edge of Clint's shirt, pushing it up. Barton was pliant against him, and Thor had to work the garment up and off before he could run his hands appreciatively down Clint's chest. For all his grief, Clint was no less muscled than he had been.

They continued to kiss, but Clint did not seem to be initiating more than that, and Thor was confused. He had thought that Barton wanted this to go farther, but perhaps he had misread the situation. He had certainly been guilty of doing so before. So he pulled back and asked, "What do you want?"

Clint said flatly, "Fuck me," and leaned back, watching Thor. Apparently, he did not wish to do the work, as he did not move as the meaning of his words sunk into Thor.

And that Thor could handle, so he picked Clint up and carried him over to the bed, dropping him and reaching to undo his pants.

As it turned out, things were not so different from one realm to another.

* * *

After Thor had turned the lights off, he went back to his bed and lifted Clint enough to draw the covers out from underneath him and settle into bed behind him.

Thor draped an arm over Clint's hip to signal that he could stay, and Clint sighed, burrowing deeper into a pillow. He went to sleep almost immediately, although Thor was still awake when the door opened and Natasha stuck her head in, looking around the room.

In the darkness, he could not be sure that she was aware that he was awake, but their eyes met suddenly and she turned a devastating glare upon him before softening when her eyes fell on her partner resting next to Thor.

After nodding seriously to Thor, who had definitely received her silent message, she shut the door softly and left.

Soon after that, Thor fell asleep.

* * *

Clint woke Thor up the next morning rather pleasantly, and they did not immediately leave the bed.

When they did get up, they had made a mess of the bedcoverings.

Thor decided he could use a washing, so he grasped Clint's forearm and tugged him into the bathroom, turning the dials in the shower, similar to the one he had used in his previous stay on Earth. Once the temperature satisfied him, he shoved Clint under the water and followed him in.

Clint seemed content to stand there and allow the water to wash over him, but Thor was hungry, so he took the soap and brusquely began to wash Clint off, turning him around to wash his back.

Through it all, although Thor was not exactly gentle, Clint did not move, and when Thor shut the water off and stepped out, he found that he also needed to dry Clint off, as he stood still in the shower, dripping water onto the floor carelessly.

Thor was not exactly objecting, though. It felt nice to take care of another person like this, to be trusted enough to make good decisions. To have someone obey him the way Loki never would.

As they dressed silently in their clothing from the night before, Thor inspected the bed. The sheets would need changing, but he was hungry, so he ordered Clint to take care of it, partly to see what Clint would do and partly to avoid taking care of the task himself.

Clint's shoulders straightened as he moved to attend to the sheets, and briefly Thor congratulated himself for understanding the situation before he left the room to find breakfast.

* * *

Thor could cook, so he hunted through the cabinets of the empty kitchen before finding flatcake mix and an appropriate pan.

He had made enough for two by the time Clint came into the room hesitantly, and Thor shoved a full plate at Clint, who went to sit down at the small table.

After making enough for a third person if Tony was to join them, Thor poured two glasses of milk and joined Clint at the table. They ate in silence until a phone rang and Clint put his fork down to dig in his pocket.

He answered the call and turned the sound up loud enough that Thor could hear it, putting the device in the middle of the table and returning to his breakfast. At the rate he was eating, Thor did not think there would be enough left over for Tony if he was to wander in.

Natasha was the caller, and after she ascertained that Clint was well and still with Thor, she offered to take Thor out shopping for more clothing. Apparently she had received a call from SHIELD asking her to attend to this task.

Thor agreed, and they made plans to meet after he and Clint had finished breakfast. Clint was reticent throughout the exchange but he informed Thor quietly that he had taken care of the bed and thanked him for making the food.

They left their dishes in the sink and departed the tower to meet Natasha, Thor leaving Mjolnir behind on the roof as it would be an annoying thing to carry since he was attempting to pass unnoticed.

Natasha took charge of their shopping as Thor listened attentively and Clint trailed along. Thor did not touch Clint in public; he was unsure how that would be received, both by Clint and by the others they were encountering.

Their shopping lasted until after they had stopped for lunch (Clint had not made a selection at the restaurant and Natasha had huffed and chosen something for him) and Clint was laden down with bags.

At long last, Natasha pronounced them through and informed Clint that she needed to return to SHIELD. His face fell, but she did not seem to notice, turning to Thor and shaking his hand and then leaving without looking back.

Turning back to Clint, Thor was at a loss for what to do.

* * *

'_S weird_, Clint thought, _but the good kind_.

He was carrying all of Thor's shopping bags after Nat had dragged Thor around what felt like the whole mall and kitted him out with a new, Earth-appropriate wardrobe. Clint figured he was doing his first useful thing in days, carrying shit.

But now Thor was starting to look lost, which Clint didn't like. Thor wasn't supposed to be lost. That was Clint's department, now that he had control of his mind but no objective in sight. No one to shoot, just his 'recovery' to think of.

Nat got to work, but he was suspended until he could satisfactorily pass a psych exam. That blew.

But now wasn't the time to lament his shitty life, he needed to do something. With Thor, last night, he had started to feel something approaching _normal _again. And he didn't want to let that slip away, so he bumped a hip into Thor's to get his attention and started walking towards the exit.

They could get a cab back to his place, he figured, and maybe he could blow Thor again like he had that morning. Or maybe Thor'd fuck him again.

Clint only looked over his shoulder once to see if Thor was following, and then he kept his eyes forward. Thor seemed to need this as much as Clint did, in a way.

What gave Loki the power to totally fuck up two guys like this, Clint wondered.

But he didn't have an answer, and he didn't want to think about Loki, so he stopped that train of thought. 'Bout the only damn thing he could do anymore, these days, with his messed up head.

He didn't know what was going on inside Thor's brain, though. He was just speculating about the reason Thor seemed screwed up. He could be totally off base.

Maybe he wasn't so good with the whole not-thinking-about-it thing. But at least he wasn't thinking You Know Who's name.

They got outside and Clint stepped to the curb to hail a cab, struggling to get an arm free of the bags he was carrying. He didn't feel like dealing with the subway, not today.

A taxi pulled over and they rode back to Clint's place, where he juggled the bags in an attempt to get his wallet out to pay the guy. Thor had paid for about half the stuff they'd bought and Nat had put the rest on her SHIELD credit card, so Clint knew Thor had some cash.

But he wanted to pay for the cab, almost like it would give Thor a reason to stay.

Thor wound up reaching into Clint's back pocket, pulling out his wallet, and paying the bored cabbie. That was a little surprising, but hey, Thor left a decent tip and put it right back in Clint's jeans, so he couldn't complain too much.

It was kinda nice, being taken care of like that.

They went inside, and Clint managed to fish his keys out to unlock the door. His place wasn't anything special, but it was clean, at least, and he dumped the bags next to the door of his laundry room (something Tasha had insisted on; she lived right across the hall and told him he wasn't gonna be stealing her machines to clean his shit).

Thor was looking around, taking the place in, and Clint didn't want him to start feeling like he should leave, so he leaned up into Thor's space and looked at him expectantly. He didn't want to be _too_ pushy, after all.

Luckily, Thor was a pretty smart guy and he took the hint, setting his hands onto Clint's hips and bending down enough to kiss Clint, pushing his tongue against Clint's teeth.

Clint opened his mouth and leaned carefully against Thor, who started pushing him backwards and through the open door into his bedroom.

There, Clint pulled away long enough to grab the bottle of lube from his nightstand drawer, setting it on top, before he pushed himself back against Thor and started toeing off his shoes.

That done, he flopped back onto the bed, letting Thor pull his clothes off. It was nice to not have to do anything, to let Thor do the work.

Thor stopped halfway through taking Clint's pants off, though, and asked, "This is what you want, correct?"

"Yeah." _Wasn't that obvious?_ But Clint could see Thor wanting to make sure everything was okay, so he didn't mind too much.

After Thor got his clothes off, Clint laid back and watched Thor strip. He hadn't wanted to think about fucking Loki's brother the night before, so he'd shut his eyes and thought about a generic guy.

But Thor hadn't talked about his brother once other than answering a couple questions last night at dinner, and besides, he was hot.

So Clint was good with this.

* * *

Afterwards, Clint got up and pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants, heading out into the big main room.

He turned on the TV to some dumb reality show for background noise and went to wash Thor's new clothes, grabbing a pair of scissors on his way through the kitchen so he could take the tags off. He could hear Thor dropping onto the couch and the channel changing, and Clint smiled to himself, glad that Thor was staying.

Once he'd gotten everything detagged and a load of laundry started, he grabbed a bag of chips out of the kitchen—if Thor was gonna stay, Clint would need to go grocery shopping, he'd seen Thor eat—and went to sit on the floor next to Thor, who was taking up the whole sofa, his legs stretched out.

Thor made like he'd move over, but Clint shook his head. The floor was just fine with him, and he passed the chips up instead after grabbing himself a handful.

They spent most of the rest of the afternoon like that, Clint just getting up to go move the loads of laundry, and bring Thor a clean pair of boxers once they were dry.

He knew Nat would be sticking her head in later; she insisted on making sure he ate dinner, and he didn't want her to see Thor naked.

Kinda silly, he knew, but he liked having Thor to himself. And in a way, he wanted something she didn't have; she had her job and he had Thor.

Not that they were the same thing, but Thor was a pretty decent consolation prize. Yeah.

But Clint didn't _want_ to be thinking, that was kind of the whole point of this, so he got up to check the laundry and started dinner.

He was thinking chicken—he had some in the fridge—and he turned on the radio low so he'd have something to listen to while he worked, something else to keep his mind occupied.

Thor wandered in when the show he was watching was over, and he did the few small tasks Clint asked him to and didn't seem to mind being asked to help with the food.

They were almost through eating dinner, sitting at the tiny table in the corner of the living room, the TV still going on the other side of the room, when Natasha unlocked the door and let herself in like she usually did.

She looked around and said calmly, "Hey, Thor. Clint, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Uh, sure."

She went into his bedroom and he followed her, wondering what was going on. Had Fury said something about him? Was he gonna get to go back to work? He'd think she'd be more visibly excited if it was good news, but this _was_ Nat he was talking about.

But she shut the door firmly and crossed her arms across her chest. "Clint, are you sure about this?"

"Whattdya mean?" He knew perfectly well what she meant, or at least he was about 99% sure, but he wasn't going to make this easy for her.

"Being with Thor. Clint, honestly, I don't think _either _of you is ready for a relationship right now."

"We're not in a _relationship_, geez, Nat, give me some credit. I know better than to drag another person into this mess," he waved a hand around his head.

She eyed him suspiciously but just said, "I trust you to do the right thing for yourself. And if that's getting your rocks off with Thor, well, he's hot and unlikely to be sticking around for long. I can see the appeal of that. Just do me a favor, okay?"

"...Sure."

"Take him out some, let him see the city. If you two keep doing nothing but watching those stupid reality shows, you really think he's gonna stick around to protect this screwed up place?" She cracked a smile and punched his arm lightly, and he was glad that this conversation was returning to familiar territory.

"You have a point, Tasha. Thanks. It's just hard, you know? Nice to have an excuse to get out of my head."

"I'm glad. I don't like seeing you like you were. You deserve better. Now we'd better get back out to your guest."

Impulsively, Clint reached out to hug Natasha. He was glad that she got it about Thor and about him. Yeah, she'd been unmade before, but never quite like this.

And talking to people who had been like him, like Selvig, didn't work. The sight of Selvig dredged up memories that Clint would much rather bury, so he was avoiding any contact with the man.

Last he'd heard, Selvig had gone off with Foster, but Clint was hardly gonna mention that around Thor. He knew Thor and Foster had had a thing, if brief acquaintance and apparently mutual attraction could be considered a 'thing.'

But Thor was staying with Clint, and Clint wanted him to stick around and not go gallivanting off to her. It was selfish, yeah, but he was feeling selfish.

And the way he saw it, he had a right to be after all that had happened to him.

So he just followed Natasha back out to the living room and listened while she shot the shit with Thor for a few minutes before leaving.

Clint did the dishes quietly before grabbing his laptop and sitting back at the table. He looked up tourist attractions and subway schedules while Thor watched more TV.

When it got late enough to go to bed, Clint stood up and stretched, but Thor's attention was on the show he was watching, so Clint said, "Hey, I'm going to bed."

Thor didn't immediately jump up and run after him, but Clint was glad; that would've been weird. But Thor did throw Clint a look over his shoulder and said, "Be there soon."

So Clint pulled his clothes off—not like he usually slept in anything anyway—and climbed into bed.

Natasha's advice was still at the front of his brain, so he gave his motivations for wanting Thor around some consideration.

Eventually he decided that he was exercising his newly reclaimed control over his body by choosing to give that control to Thor for a while, and Clint knew that Thor was a good guy. If he wanted to stop doing whatever this was, Thor would. Whether it was the sex or if Clint wanted Thor to go away, he knew Thor would do either one, Thor was that kinda guy. Good to his core.

When Thor came in shortly after, Clint was glad to see him; he was done thinking for the evening.

* * *

Over the next few days, Clint took Thor out to a buncha New York tourist attractions after Thor retrieved his hammer from the roof of Stark Tower and stashed it in Clint's place (he was staying!), and he kept on feeling better. Thor was interested in listening to Clint spout off random facts about the Statue of Liberty that he'd picked up from...somewhere, and Clint didn't mind talking.

Just not about the important stuff, so one night when Thor tried to have pillow talk or some shit, Clint pretended he was asleep until Thor threw an arm over Clint's hip and settled down himself.

He didn't talk so much after that, didn't want Thor to get anymore ideas about getting into his head, but they could communicate without words most of the time, like Clint could with Tasha, and that was good. Always something he appreciated about another person.

So they were getting a rhythm, a routine, and Clint liked that. Helped him stay grounded in the now, keep him from getting lost in his head. He didn't have enough time to brood, and Thor seemed happy with him.

Until Tony Stark fucked everything up.

* * *

It started off innocently enough, Tony called to say that he'd heard that Thor was staying with Clint and Thor had promised Bruce could run some tests on his hammer.

They both snickered, and Clint felt brave enough to say, "Yeah, well, I have it on good authority that his hammer's working just fine."

"Whoa, Katniss, you hit that? High fucking five, man."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome. Now, you and Blondie need to come over. I've got a few goodies for you, and Bruce is all excited about getting his hands on Thor's hammer," Tony snorted.

Clint thought for a second—they were supposed to go the zoo later but that could wait—before asking, "How's this afternoon sound?"

"Great! We'll be expecting you. Wait, is Red coming with you?"

"That's unoriginal, Stark. And nah, she's on assignment this week." Or at least Clint was pretty sure that was where she was; he hadn't been keeping up with her as closely as he had in the immediate aftermath of having his brain fucked over.

"Sucks, man, she does this twitchy thing when she's thinking about killing me, and it's fun to watch."

"Nat'll be so sad she missed the opportunity. Uh, I'm gonna go get Thor, and yeah. See ya."

"Later, birdie."

Thor was in the other room watching TV, but he seemed glad to be going to see their 'shieldbrothers.' His vocab was so weird sometimes.

Clint grabbed his jacket and Thor stuffed his hammer into a bag, and they headed out.

At the tower, JARVIS's voice greeted them in the elevator. "Thor, Dr. Banner is expecting you in his lab on the seventy-fourth floor, and Agent Barton, Mr. Stark would like you to join him in the weapons range on the fiftieth floor."

"Certainly," Thor said, and Clint punched the appropriate buttons and leaned against Thor as the elevator went up. That had become kind of a habit with them, Clint would lean on Thor whenever he felt like it, and Thor would usually smile down and sometimes pat his hair but otherwise let Clint be.

He got off at the fiftieth floor after a rough back pat from Thor and followed the sounds of loud music down the hall and into the range where Tony Stark was so incredibly mangling an archery stance that Clint couldn't help but laugh.

"Shut the fuck up, Tweety Bird," Tony joked, smiling easily, "I'd like to see _you_ fly."

Clint actually had flown recently. Thor had taken him up, but he hadn't flown unassisted like Tony could. But he wasn't really feeling like sharing that, that was kinda personal, so he just asked, "What do you have for me?"

"Well, I, uh, acquired the specs of the bows you prefer and built a couple of my own design, put in a few new features." He grinned, proud of himself.

Clint blinked. He didn't _want_ a new bow. He was fine with what he had, and he didn't want to change things up.

And he didn't appreciate not being asked about it. Not to mention that Tony had probably hacked SHIELD to get those designs, and if Clint wanted his job back any time soon, he shouldn't be endorsing hacking into his employer.

So he crossed his arms over his chest and said, "No thanks."

He didn't know what he'd been expecting; he wouldn't have said no to some new trick arrows or something, but a new bow was too much. Let alone multiple new bows.

"The fuck, Barton? You don't want these?" His voice still carried the teasing current it had had when Clint had walked in, but that was lost on Clint. "I put hours and hours of my life into those, blood and sweat and tears and all that! Not to mention the money; this is a new polymer, not available on the open market yet, all expensive and shit."

Tony just seemed so fake. Clint didn't want to be here anymore, he didn't want to deal with this.

He just wanted to go back to his place, where it was just him and Thor and things went smoothly, where there were no pushy engineers trying to make him do things he didn't want to do.

Clint didn't know what his face looked like while he was thinking, probably angry, but it seemed like Tony was getting mad at him, probably 'cause he wasn't throwing himself at Tony in pure joy or some shit. It was just so _dumb_.

"What the hell, Barton? I don't get it, you seemed fine on the phone, why don't you want them? I really did put a ton of work in on them, and it's fucking insulting, you being all weird. What is your _damage_, Katniss?" Now Tony was really angry, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

Clint didn't know what he could say. Tony didn't get what was going on with him and wasn't Thor, who got it, wasn't Tasha, who sorta got it, was just a rude asshole.

So he turned around and walked out the door, down the hall, and pushed the elevator button, all the while ignoring Tony yelling after him, "Barton! Hey, _asshole_, get back here, you didn't answer my goddamn question!"

The elevator came, finally, and Clint rode up to the floor where Banner's lab was in silence. He just wanted to get Thor, and go home, and turn his phone off, and forget all of this bullshit. Eat some comfort food, maybe the ice cream they'd picked out at the store yesterday, watch some trash TV, be safe.

It was kinda irrational, he knew, but he was just starting to feel better and maybe he shouldn't have broken their routine like this, it was jinxing things. Hurting his recovery. And that was the most important thing, he had to get better so he could go back to work.

The door to the lab was open, and Clint headed through it. Banner had his glasses on and was hunched over the hammer, prodding it with some kind of instrument. Thor was slouched on a stool across the room, watching, and Clint made a beeline for him, tucking his face into Thor's shoulder, wrapping an arm around Thor and clinging to him.

He didn't usually do shit like this, get all snuggly, but Thor was so good at understanding what he needed that he was desperately hoping Thor would get it and suggest that they go home so Clint didn't have to.

But Thor just held Clint close until all of a sudden Clint got angry. 'Cause this wasn't how things worked with them, and it was all Stark's fault for bringing them here. If they had just kept to how things worked, everything would be fine and Clint would be getting better, still.

He shoved away from Thor and stalked out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. On the way down, he dropped his phone, crushing it underneath his foot.

Where he was going, he didn't want to be followed.

* * *

Five days later, Clint was holed up in a shithole motel in the rough part of town. He was eating food he swapped dishwashing time for in the diner down the street, and he wasn't sleeping.

It was Natasha who found him, waiting in his room for him to come back from working the dinner shift in exchange for _his _dinner.

She was standing by his bed, which she eyed disdainfully when he went to sit on it.

"Natasha."

"Barton. Dumbass. Fury wants to talk to you."

"Yeah? What about?"

"About how he apparently hasn't been giving enough attention to Loki's victims—" Clint didn't like that; he wasn't a victim, "—and he's going to fix that oversight."

"Well, maybe I don't want to be fixed."

"Barton, they pulled me off an assignment for you. Again. And I was worried. Thor's been talking to the psychologists at headquarters; they want to see you too. He's going home in a couple days, don't you want to come say goodbye?"

The fucked up part was that he _did_.

And she knew it too, if the way she relaxed was any indication. She should be better with her tells like that, just 'cause he wasn't working didn't mean that he didn't still have his training.

"Fine. But no shrinks."

"Sure, Clint, whatever you say."

He followed her dutifully out of the motel and down to her car, which was so fucking obvious that he couldn't believe he'd missed it when he was coming in. Maybe he did need to go in, just for a little bit. Talk to someone, not a shrink, but someone. Coulson? No, he was dead. But surely SHIELD had someone like him, not a shrink, who Clint could talk to. That might would be good.

She drove him to SHIELD HQ, and he was quiet. She didn't make him talk, and he was grateful. Nat wasn't the right kind of person for this, knew him too well.

When he walked through the doors, he was grabbed from behind and injected with something. He was out cold before he could see Natasha's regretful expression.

* * *

He woke up a day later in psych, strapped to a bed.

But unlike the last time he'd woken up strapped down, Natasha wasn't there.

Clint was alone.

Clint didn't know how to be alone.

* * *

"You're not going to let me see him?" Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation. She'd never been forbidden from seeing Clint before, especially not when she had been the one to bring him in.

"No, Agent Romanoff, we feel that Mr. Barton deals with his problems by latching onto another person in an attempt to avoid what is going on inside his head. As his 'best friend,' you would be a prime candidate for this behavior."

She could understand that. Clint hadn't been coping well, and when he had gotten with Thor, she had thought that might help, but it hadn't made him any better. But he'd just brushed her warning off, and she had hoped that it might just take time.

But then Clint had flipped out at Tony Stark, who, while extremely annoying, was not deserving of such a reaction. Then he'd run away, even from Thor, and she'd been called back from her assignment to find him because apparently no one else in SHIELD could, although it took her only three hours to track him down.

And bring him in. Turn him over to SHIELD. And even though Natasha herself had been through their so-called methods of "helping" people, she'd done it.

She just didn't see how she had a choice. Clint needed help, she couldn't give it, and it wasn't like she could drag Clint to a non-SHIELD psychologist, he had to see someone within the organization.

Besides, SHIELD had shipped Thor back to Asgard already, and that was the right thing to do, in her opinion. They'd given him a thorough psychological analysis and then determined themselves uninterested in rehabilitating an alien, and Fury'd personally seen Thor off their planet.

So SHIELD seemed like the best place for Clint. And it wasn't like they were going to forcibly deprogram him. Clint wasn't being controlled anymore.

It would all be okay.

It had to be.

* * *

"Father, Mother, I have gravely wronged a human."

"We know, son," Odin said. "He is being taken care of by his own kind, and I see now that I was too hasty in allowing you to leave my care so soon after imprisoning your brother. Loki is where he needs to be, and now that you have returned, you are as well."

"Thor," Frigga leaned forward, "Clint Barton is being taken care of by others now, and we need you to take care of yourself. _Asgard_ needs to you take care of yourself."

"Very well."

* * *

"Mr. Barton," the exclusion of 'Agent' from his title stung, "do you want to get better?"

Clint did. He nodded.

"Good. Then let's talk."

* * *

**I'm not going to rule out adding onto this, but it's not in my current plans so I'm marking it complete.**

**Reviews are appreciated!**


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